


Allure

by Resoan



Series: Drabbles, Requests, and Memes [29]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:30:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3727138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resoan/pseuds/Resoan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas watches as the Inquisitor judges a prisoner at Skyhold, and while he commends her capability in doing what needs to be done, he cannot deny the draw such power and restraint holds for him personally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Allure

**Author's Note:**

> Requested on tumblr, this was based on the prompt of 'Lily' which means majesty.

It was not often that the Inquisitor sat on her throne: wreathed with light from the especially-crafted stained glass of Serault and gleaming like an actual deity - not that she needed help in that regard. Many still regarded her as the Herald of Andraste despite truth to the contrary, but even Solas could tacitly admit to himself that sitting on her throne, head held high and expression regal, she looked more a Queen or a Goddess than any who’d made claim to the titles he’d ever seen.

He leaned casually against the door jamb as a former magister of Tevinter was brought rather noisily into the chamber, the man falling harshly to his knees even as he lifted his gaze to sneer at the Inquisitor. Solas’s gaze lifted from the man’s back to instead peer at Velahari’s expression; her green eyes were narrowed, lips pursed with repressed anger - he was not surprised she was still displeased with Erimond, especially as he prattled on and on about the Elder One.

Her voice echoed around the chamber as she spoke to the former magister, and Solas’s lips twitched when he saw irritation flit across Velahari’s brow: she hid it well, but he had grown so very accustomed to her body language as they grew closer. His thoughts seemed to settle on her then, on the brief kisses they’d shared, and by the time he thought to glance back up, the Inquisition soldiers were dragging the man out past Solas and down the steps, Erimond’s protests falling on deaf ears.

As he looked back towards the Inquisitor’s throne, he caught her gaze as it lingered on his; she was but a step away now, following after the soldiers with purpose in her step. Her eyes shut and she inclined her head at him as she slipped outside, Solas only just managing to catch the gleam of a sword in her hand as she did so. He followed once she was gone from sight, and part of him was almost a little surprised to see Erimond forced to his knees as the Inquisitor approached, her expression heavy with the weight of her decision - never before had she killed someone as punishment, and it would change her.

Still, the fact remained that it needed to be done, and Velahari had never once shirked her responsibilities: not even when Cassandra had brandished a blade at her or she’d been hurled into a dark, grim future with only an unknown, Tevinter mage as her ally. Perhaps that was one of the innumerable reasons Solas found himself drawn to her; the sense of purpose and responsibility she held were akin to his own, and…when the time came, he hoped she might understand the damage he might do. 

He forced the thought and the accompanying pain to the side as Velahari hefted the blade high, and the slice of sword through flesh was quick and clean, even as it stained the wooden beams beneath her feet. Her gaze lifted to his inexplicably as the crowd roared its approval, and while he might have expected uncertainty or guilt, he saw nothing but grim resolution and resignation. Her eyes gleamed, however, and once more he could not deny how very majestic she was: veritably oozing power but not abusing it, and ultimately doing what must be done.

It was difficult, but Solas pushed away the darker thoughts of approval, of the allure of her power, and instead offered her a hand when she came closer, his smile sympathetic as he eased a single smear of blood away from her cheek and dark, implicative whispers in the back of his mind informed him that he had chosen well. 


End file.
